It Wasn't Meant To Be Like This
by outoftheashesrising
Summary: If you had asked twenty year old Siobhan Sadler where she thought she would be in thirty years, she would have looked you straight in the eye, grasped her glass of brandy, and uttered in her throaty tone "dead, I suppose." A character study of one of television's most interesting and mysterious characters. Very slight trigger warning
1. Chapter 1

If you had asked twenty year old Siobhan Sadler where she thought she would be in thirty years, she would have looked you straight in the eye, grasped her glass of brandy, and uttered in her throaty tone "dead, I suppose." Even the hearty laugh accompanying her response would do little to hide the fact that she wasn't joking.

In fact, it was a miracle in itself that she lived past 25. Well it was either a miracle or a shame, depending on who you talked to. For Siobhan, it was definitely the latter.

Born in Dublin to a housewife and a banker, Siobhan Donovan had a perfectly uneventful childhood. Maths, piano recitals and Sunday Mass filled her waking moments, while images of wild horses and far-away lands populated her sleeping ones. She lived the same routine, ignorant to the world around her, for nearly twelve years. And then came the bank strike.

Siobhan wasn't at all worried when she heard that yet another strike would soon be commencing. She was only six when the last one happened, and she fondly remembered how much extra time her father spent with her and her younger brother. It didn't matter that she had to keep on wearing the clothes she was starting to grow out of and that she didn't get a "proper" cake for her birthday. She was perfectly content with the company her often-absent father was able to provide.

This strike, however, was different than the last. Her father seemed distant and far more worrisome than he had been during the last one. Instead of spending his free moments with his children, he hid away in the spare room that doubled as an office, drinking his sorrows away, Siobhan would later assume.

She remembers the day they found him, slumped over in his ratty chair, the smell of whisky like a dense cloud over the room. Trying to keep quiet as best as an eight and twelve year old could, the siblings slowly opened the flimsy door, being extra cautious as to not drop the plate of freshly baked cookies in hand. They thought he was sleeping at first- not many children would see a still body and automatically assume their beloved father had died of an overdose.


	2. Chapter 2

Years later, Siobhan would identify that moment as the spark- the event that triggered the inevitable downward spiral that her life quickly became. Back then, however, it was simply the end. The end of the blissfully ignorant life she was so used to leading. The end of nice clothes and piano lessons, of free time and laughter, the end of childhood.

After the death of her father, Siobhan's mother took a job as a cleaner, picking up after those fortunate enough to afford such luxuries. This left Siobhan in charge of the household duties; making meals, doing the shopping, making sure her brother was ready for school on time. They carried on like this, just scraping by, for five years, until a stern man in a blue uniform came to their door to inform Siobhan and her brother that their mother had died of a heart attack. Somehow, Siobhan found less comfort in the fact that she wasn't the one to find her. It didn't feel real.

She left school to work in a bar, busing tables and playing in to the regular's whistles and remarks in the hopes of scoring a few extra pounds. She worked hard for her money, trying in vain to make enough to support her and her brother. That illusion barely lasted a month, after which the two orphans were sent to live with some distant relatives in Bristol.

Although her brother fit in with their new "family" quite well, short tempered Siobhan was quick to butt heads with the patriarch of the family, her mother's cousin, whom she had never met before. The stern, angular man did not take kindly to Siobhan's sharp tongue and apparent inability to follow authority. Months of ineffective "punishments" and meaningless lectures lead to Siobhan leaving home days after her eighteenth birthday, with a promise to her brother to retrieve him as soon as she'd made enough money to support them both.

Siobhan quickly realized, however, that her solemn promise to her brother may have been the last words she ever said to him.


	3. Chapter 3

Possessing nothing more than a suitcase of clothes and the small sum of money her former guardian had handed her while her husband wasn't looking, the naïve young woman set out to London looking for a job. Having not finished high school and having neither the money nor the time for any sort of formal training, Siobhan wandered the unfamiliar city looking for any sort of work, temporary or not, that would give her enough means to survive the next few weeks.

Having used the majority of her money on procuring a small room in a boarding house for the month, Siobhan spent her waking moments scrounging up enough cash to put food on the table. She was able to land a job working in a dusty pub on the outskirts of the city, almost an hour's walk away from where she was staying. When she wasn't at the pub, she was babysitting for the woman living next to her, watching her twin girls while she went to work. It didn't leave Siobhan with any time to herself, but at least she wasn't starving.

It wasn't long after settling in London before Siobhan fell ill, her poor diet and long commute in the frigid air contributing to her condition. Wanting nothing more than to cocoon herself in her thin blankets and forget about the world for just one day, the sickly young woman gathered her spirits and began readying herself for the long trek to work. There was nothing a little tea couldn't fix.

What was normally an hour's walk took nearly twice as long due to her wavering pace. Late for the first time since landing the job at the pub, the owner mumbled something about not letting it happen again before returning to his own duties. He had a soft spot for the mysterious girl.

She was in the middle of her third batch of dishes when she saw him through the open kitchen door- the son of the woman who ran the boarding house she was staying at. Michael, she thought his name was. A young man of average looks and a kind enough demeanor, Siobhan never paid much attention to him. She really didn't have the time.

Having finished the rest of the dishes, Siobhan grabbed a towel and headed back to the main room to start wiping tables. Feeling a little light headed, she steadied herself at the bar before continuing to her destination. This did not go unnoticed by Michael.

As she was cleaning the last table, she heard her boss calling her name from behind the bar. As she turned around to answer him, her dizziness returned once more. Unable to grasp the table for support, Siobhan fell to the floor, landing gracelessly on her side. She didn't wake up.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn't take long for all of the bar's inhabitants to swarm around the unconscious woman, whispers of concern disrupting the silence. Having witnessed her fall from behind the bar, Isaac, the owner, rushed to the unmoving girl, grunting orders to anyone who would listen. "I need a glass of water, and someone grab those blankets from the back room."

Just as Isaac went to feel for a pulse, Siobhan started to stir, muttering unintelligibly. "Be calm, little one." Isaac sighed with relief. "You!" He pointed to Michael, standing petrified in the corner. "Help me bring her to the back." He slowly came forward and began to grasp and support the girl's legs, unsure why a burly man had asked for assistance carrying someone who scarcely weighed eight stone. Nevertheless, he did as he was told, and assisted Isaac in positioning the small woman on the beat-up staff room couch. Siobhan sunk into the worn-out tartan, graciously grasping at the blankets offered to her.

"Should we take her to the hospital?" Michael asked, hushing his voice as to not disturb the not-yet coherent Siobhan.

"What this girl needs is some rest and some real food, not doctors poking and prodding her. She looks like she hasn't slept a full night in months. I'll see if she has anyone I can call to come get her."

"She lives with me, I mean, she stays in one of the rooms my mum rents out," Michael faltered, "I don't think she has anyone here, I mean I've never seen anyone. I can take her home, make sure she's okay…"

Isaac looked at the young man with uncertainty. He knew next to nothing about this girl, but he had been around long enough to tell that her life hadn't been easy. He wanted to make sure this girl got the care she deserved, but he couldn't just leave the bar and see to it himself. So like it or not, he was going to have to trust this boy.

"You take her straight home, and make sure she get's some rest. And take this-" He thrusts two crumpled ten pound notes into his hand, "make sure she has something to eat that isn't from a packet."

With that, the gruff man helped Michael position the now sleeping Siobhan into the back seat of his car, made him promise to have her call him on a daily basis, and sent them on their way.

-many thanks to Leahloahla for betaing!


End file.
